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“Just remember you said that when we disagree in Vegas.”
“I’ll show you no mercy,” Lana assured her. “For the good of the ratings and job security, of course.”
Darla managed a small smile, suddenly liking Lana more than she thought possible. “Of course.”
“We’ll call a truce for now, though. It’s not fun baiting you when you don’t respond with appropriate rebellion.”
“Truce,” Darla agreed, shutting her eyes as they began to taxi, pretty sure the fact that she didn’t care when the plane lifted off wasn’t a good sign about just how sick she was. This couldn’t happen at a worse time. Things were looking positive, but she’d seen enough in this business to know anything could go wrong, and sometimes nothing went wrong and the studio heads still made unexplainable decisions. Having a good audience response to her performance during Vegas Week, and then as she sat at the judges’ table for the first four live shows, were critical to assuring her bonus.
* * *
BLAKE KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG with Darla and it was killing him to sit in his seat and not go to her. He’d tired of this game of hiding their relationship pretty much right out of the gate, but they were bound by their word to Meagan and by the show’s ad campaign, and he’d live with it for now.
Darla pushed to her feet abruptly and rushed past him so quickly, he couldn’t see her face. He sat there, telling himself not to get up and follow her. Fifteen minutes later, he was too concerned to stay seated. He stood up and Lana turned around, talking to him over the seat. “Yes. Check on her. She’s more than a little sick.”
Blake didn’t reply. He headed toward the bathroom and knocked. “Darla?” No reply. He knocked again. “Darla.” He yanked on the door and it opened, unlocked. She was sitting on the tiny space in front of the sink, her knees to her chest and her head on top of them. His heart lurched and he knew she was in trouble.
He didn’t even consider how it looked. This was the woman he loved. To hell with charades and ratings. He bent down next to her. “Darla, honey,” he whispered urgently, gently pulling her head back.
“Blake,” she mouthed in a barely audible voice, her face was sheet-white with black makeup smudges marking her cheeks. “I…”
“It’s okay. Don’t try and talk. I’m going to find a place for you to lie down.”
“No, I can’t…move. Too…sick.”
“What’s happening?” Meagan asked, pushing in beside Blake. “Oh, God.”
“Clear the back seats so she can lie down, will you?”
“Yes. Of course.”
Blake started to lift Darla. “No. Sick. I’m sick.”
“We’ll get you a bag,” he promised, “but you can’t stay on the floor. It’s not safe. I can’t pick you up in this small space but I’ll hold on to you, okay?” He was already pulling her to her feet and she all but collapsed into him, moaning as though she hurt.
Meagan stood in the aisle, her expression worried, as she indicated the open row. “She needs a bag.” Blake managed to maneuver Darla and himself into the seats.
“Bag,” she said in a panicked voice. “Bag. Hurry.”
The flight attendant rushed up the aisle and handed it to Meagan, who opened it just in time. Blake held her as her body shook. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
He ran his hand over her hair, hating that the seats were too small for her to lie down. “I know. I’m sorry, honey, but I’m here. We’ll get you to a doc when we land.”
Meagan bent down next to her. “Is it just your stomach?”
She wet her lips. “My head, too.”
Meagan glanced at Blake. “It’s so sudden and violent it might be food poisoning.”
“Started after lunch,” Darla whispered without opening her eyes.
Meagan nodded. “Food poisoning. It has to be. This is too wicked to be anything else.” She pushed to her feet and claimed the seat in front of them, so that she could stay near Darla.
Eventually, Darla blinked up at him and whispered, “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“You don’t ever have to thank me for that.”
“Yes, I do.” Her lashes fluttered and she fell asleep. He held her for a good forty-five minutes, thankful she was resting.
When they were near to landing, Meagan squatted beside him. “The doctor is waiting on her, but he says if he’s even slightly worried about her when he sees her, he’s sending her to the E.R.”
“I think that’s smart.” He hesitated, all too aware that everyone on the plane now knew he and Darla were together. “Meagan—”
“If I was this sick, no one would ever keep Sam away from me,” she said, before he could say anything else. “I’ll talk to everyone about keeping quiet but if it gets out, it gets out. The public is enthralled with the two of you. I don’t see that changing.”
